Arguments
by silkystockings
Summary: (Nyotalia) France is an arrogant, snobbish woman. England is a no-nonsense kind of woman. And they hate eachother. Could anythng besides fighting happen between them?
1. Fighting

**I still don't own Hetalia or its characters. Nothing has changed.**

**So, I've made another fanfic. Yep. **

**This one will use country names.**

**It's Nyo!Fruk, so if you don't like that, don't read this. Peace.**

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England sighed, glaring at France.

Once again, that snobbish Frenchwoman had shown her up. She always had to interject something more important, even when there was nothing happening even in the slightest relation to her as a nation. She often argued with England, and then brushed it off and started acting ever so faux-affectionate again.

The meeting soon ended, and England was making her may home. She unfourtuanately found herself being accompanied by the least favorable person.

"Bonjour, Angleterre," the other nation cooed into England's ear.

"Stop speaking that bastard language, and go away." England stared daggers through France.

"What? I'm simply traveling towards my nation."

"Then walk with the nations that border you, and bug off."

"I'm simply accompanying you, England, darling. How is that an issue?"

That was it. She could stand the interruptions, the arguments, all those other things. But how dare that ignorant epitome of arrogance even address a lover's term towards her?

She blew her top. "THAT IS IT! France, you are absolutely terrible at understanding the air of things, you anger me on a day-to-day basis, and worst of all, you ALWAYS brush it off and address me in the most fake-sweet tone I have ever heard! If you could kindly leave me alone for the rest of your hopefully short life, that would be all I want." Every other nation stared at the two women.

France just looked at England, wide eyed with shock. She enjoyed taunting her rival, but England rarely outbursted in such a manner like that. Behavior like that only happened one time outside of a war before. The ponytailed blonde ran back off to her nation.

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How could the country of love be so passionately hated? That was the one question in the Frenchwoman's mind.

France mused in her room for a while. She tried writing an apology letter, though she doubted the Englishwoman would even open those before throwing them away. She actually was one who enjoyed England's company. The dirty blonde haired woman had always liked her, even openly flirting with her.

She picked up the phone to call the bespectacled blonde woman.

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The phone rang loudly. England let it be,knowing who it was. She was too pissed to think about talking to _her_. Maybe it was a little harsh, but it wasn't entirely unwarranted.

There were points where England didn't completely dislike the French snob. In childhood, she often looked up to the kind-seeming nation. But that was ruined by countless years of war. She was even fond of France during some wars, as long as they were fighting together, instead of with each other.

It was pointless. It seemed destined for them to be enemies, and nothing but enemies. She tried cooling down, taking deep breaths.

She opted to at least apologize for the public outburst, and visit France. The Englishwoman opened her door. She saw France standing there.

"I'm sorry," the Frenchwoman sighed, avoiding looking at England.

The bespectacled woman was stunned to say the least. She never expected a woman like that to apologize to her.

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**_Flashback_**

England stood next to the lake in some nation she had wandered into. She was attempting to get away from her rowdy older sisters, as they always picked on her.

"Who are you?" A voice popped up from behind England. She turned around, and saw a tall French girl.

"I'm England!," The small girl said boldly, attempting to look tough.

France bent down to talk to the small child. "Well hello, England. I'm France. You look a little beat up, are you okay?"

England just pouted and looked away.

"Well if you don't want to say anything, would you like to visit my home?"

England stared in marvel. This was the first time she had talked to another nation peacefully. She was a beautiful girl, kind and sweet. "Ah, yes!" She stammered, breaking out of her stare. They walked down together to France's house.

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**That's it for now folks.**

**Read and Review!**


	2. At Her Doorstep

**I don't own Hetalia or its characters. Peace out dudes!**

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France looked the other blonde in the eye.

"I'm sorry, for embarrassing you in such a way. It's just odd, how I feel," The Frenchwoman sighed out. "I like seeing you, even though I hate you. I like talking with you, even after countless wars. I'm not sure if this feeling is romantic, or platonic, or just purely fueled with hatrid; it feels like you complete me. I just tease you like that because I love talking to you, and you're the kind of person I can't just have a regular conversation, much less an understandable relationship with."

Trying not to lose her temper once again, England clenched her teeth. The whole apology frankly sounded like lie filled nonsense.

"Save the acting for the theater, France." The Englishwoman walked away, letting the door swing closed.

The other nation froze. Had she really pulled this along for so long that even a hint of real affection sounded like a lie? She stopped the door with her arm, not letting it shut on her.

"England! This isn't acting! How can I get it through to you?"

"Just screw off, you fake git."

The Frenchwoman's head was spinning, her face turning red with emotion. "I just want you to stay with me. How can I show you I'm not lying?..." She fell to the ground, scratching up her flowing white skirt on the concrete.

"This is embarrassing, France. If you've decided to opt to acting as a hobby, practice somewhere else."

The ponytailed blonde picked herself up off the ground, holding back shaky tears. She yanked the spectacle-donning blonde towards her, their faces mere inches apart. Their lips soon connected, like a wave colliding with a rocky shore.

"How fake was that, England?"

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**_Flashback_**

France's face was bloodied, as she stood disarmed, her opponent's sword pointing at her chest. It was hard to believe that woman brandishing such a blade towards her was the friend she held dear many, many years ago. Even then, in the midst of the battle field, France let out a somewhat disturbing chuckle.

"What is wrong with you, you nauseating cunt?"

"You really think you can end a country that simply?"

"What?"

"I must apologize for not explaining when I was teaching you about being a nation. Doing something like this would require this country to stop existing. I would become a mortal, and then you could kill me, England! Would that make you happy, Angleterre?" Nervous tears began forming in her violet blue eyes. She already knew what the pigtailed woman was going to say.

England hesitated slightly. "W-well... I-I..."

A smile started forming on the romance nation's face. Did England still care about her?

"I-it would make me happy, to see you disappear," bluffed the young nation, avoiding telling how she felt.

France felt her heart break in two.

"H-how could this be..." She stepped back, but then screamed at the other blonde "_Je ne veux plus te revoir!"_

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**_French translation:_**_  
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**___Je ne veux plus te revoir!- Roughly meaning, 'I never want to see you again!'_**

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**Well that's it for this chapter. I'll post some more later!**


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